


Assassin Anthology

by Marshmallow3



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Blow Jobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, Breasts, Creampie, Crushes, Cunnilingus, Doggy Style, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hair-pulling, Hotel Sex, Jacob is a daddy, Lesbian Sex, Loss of Virginity, Making Out, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Modern Era, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Papa Jacob Frye, Phone Sex, Reverse Cowgirl, Secret Crush, Sex Toys, Sexting, Silver Fox, Sleepy Cuddles, Spanking, Squirting, Strap-Ons, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Voice Kink, Wake-Up Sex, family life, mirror kink, nipple sucking, sofa sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2020-10-26 20:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 14,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20748527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marshmallow3/pseuds/Marshmallow3
Summary: I finally began the arduous task of putting all of my Assassin's Creed drabbles and one-shots in the same place. Rating varies per chapter.





	1. Kassandra/Reader (Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kassandra/Reader  
Modern AU

Imagine - being coworkers with Kassandra and developing a crush on her.

You love the sparkle in her eyes and her wide smile whenever you greet each other in passing, but it’s always just that - in passing. Your eyes follow her to her circle of friends, resting your chin in your hands and sighing at the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and darts her eyes downwards in laughter, shaking her head with a pursed smile.

You busy yourself with work as you feel her eyes shift to you, humming and tapping your pen against your lips in pretense that you weren’t just staring at her. You even throw in a squint of your eyes, pretending to be fully engrossed in the screen before you.

Glancing back when you feel her gaze leaving you, you spy her chattering away in her native tongue, the speed she rolls the words out impressing you greatly.

You take to learning the odd bits of Greek, practicing the pronunciation for days in front of a mirror until you’re confident you won’t make a fool of yourself. Greeting her one day, you wave and chime, “Yassou,” not at all expecting her response.

Her eyes shine, her hands grabbing yours as she gushes excitedly, “Yassou!”

She sits at your desk and the two of you chat away about anything and everything, the laughter coming naturally to you as she recounts stories and jokes. Your cheeks ache from smiling by the time she hops up and returns to her own work, your supervisor lingering in the background and shooting glares at no one in particular. Your smile wanes a little, watching her leave and missing the pleasant sound of her voice already.

You jump in your chair when a hand presses against your shoulder, Kassandra whispering, “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

You smile, “Y/N.”

“Y/N, I’m Kassandra. Would you like to have dinner sometime?”

Unable to respond as your brain squeals internally, she chuckles and takes your blushing silence as a ‘yes’. Leaning over you and reaching for a pad of sticky notes by your hand, all you can smell is the sweet, coconutty perfume lacing her neck, the warmth of her body so close to yours sending you in a spiral of lewd thoughts encouraged by the heat pooling in your stomach.

She clicks her pen and jots down her number with several kisses underlining the digits, before pulling back and ruffling your hair.

“Be in touch,” she winks, sauntering out of sight.


	2. Kassandra/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kassandra/Reader  
Ambiguous Timeline  
Smut

Imagine - a long night of passion with Kassandra.

She’ll warm you up first, slowly building up from innocent brushes of her fingers to your arms, breasts and stomach to pressing kisses with firmer pressure along the inside of your thighs. She’ll blow your mind with oral, her tongue moving deftly over your sex in ways that has your head rolling back into the pillows, your chest heaving into the air, your thighs struggling to stay apart as you pant and tremble, your moans unrestrained and resounding through your apartment.

When you come, your head slumped and your body boneless, you’re happy to close your eyes and melt into the mattress, eager to rest. But when you hear shuffling, a few drawers opening and closing, you open your eyes to the sight of Kassandra stroking lube over a toy that’s attached to a strap-on harness, looking up at you from under her eyelashes with a smirk forming on her lips.

Well, fuck.

How could you possibly resist the smoulder she gives you?

She guides you to the middle of the bed, pushing your hips into position on your forearms and knees and teases you with precise ruts along your pussy. When she finally enters you, you feel the heat spreading through your body like ripples in a pond. Everything from your head to your toes tingles, and you’re pretty certain your lover knows that from the lewd sounds that escape your lips.

Her rhythm is incredible. She rolls her hips with such strength, such firmness, that your cheeks bounce in recoil to her thrusts. Your ass pushes back frantically to match her pace, your breasts swaying under you. One of her muscled arms dangles by her side for balance while her palm on the other splays up your spine, her touch like lightning striking your nerves. Twisting your hair around her fist, she keeps you in place, your ponytail serving as your leash.

The bedsheets are crumpled from the way you’ve been grasping them, your hair clinging to your forehead as you drip sweat. Between your creased eyebrows, your eyes screwed shut, your mouth shaped like the letter O, the flush in your cheeks and your chest, you’re a sight to behold. And Kassandra tells you just how gorgeous you look, swatting your ass and palming the rosy imprint she leaves.

_“Thats it. Come for me, my angel.”_


	3. Older!Jacob Frye/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Older!Jacob Frye/Reader  
Ambiguous Timeline  
Smut

Imagine - post-coital cuddles with an older Jacob Frye.

Boneless, you slump in bed, closing your eyes as little tremors of bliss continue to surge through you and make your thighs jerk now and again.

Your lover is faring no better, his chest heaving, his panting heavy in the air. You can feel his heartbeat galloping under your cheek as you nuzzle the matted hair of his pecs, your finger trailing over his body while you wait for one of you to catch your breath.

Twirling through the dark curls at his abdomen, you roam upwards towards his chest, your finger never once straying from the path of hair. You hum and press a kiss to nowhere in particular, rolling over to face him and beaming at his expression.

Pink cheeks really do suit the rugged gang leader, you muse. His lips are parted, his eye squeezed shut, creases forming in the corner that mark his age. He’s not old by any means, and you scold him every time the word leaves his lips, but his face looks more mature than it did in previous years; firmer, even, his eye often reflecting a horror that shaped his maturity. And his age definitely didn’t affect his performance, _dear God_.

But those thoughts aside, it’s hard to believe that Sir Jacob Frye, your friend, mentor and legend of London, is naked in your bed, dressed only in an eye patch and his shilling necklace. Feeling you study him, he cracks open his eye, peering over at you, his lips coming together in a frown.

“Is something wrong?”

You giggle and shake your head, burrowing closer to him as his arm wraps around your shoulder, nervously letting you wriggle into place.

“I don’t know how such a question can be asked after all my wailing, Mr. Frye,” you tease, booping his nose before peppering his jaw with kisses, a low groan emanating from his throat in approval.

“Quite,” is all he manages to grumble before rolling the two of you over, your thighs draped either side of his hips, your hands connecting behind his neck as he ducks down for a fierce kiss.

Upon breaking apart, he shoots you a dark smoulder that has the heat resurface in your stomach, fresh arousal beginning to coat the lips of your sex. Shuffling down the bed, he drags you with him by the ankles, eliciting a series of mirthful giggles from you. Repositioning his head between your thighs, he punctuates kisses either side of your sex, before abruptly parting the lips with two fingers and dragging his tongue upwards, curling around your clit and sucking with a pleased hum that wreaks havoc on your nerves.

You could easily spend the next few hours like this, your lover bringing you to several more orgasms with his fingers and tongue alone. And with the intensity of your previous ones that have barely had the chance to cool down, you can only imagine the sweet torment of borderline overstimulation. Arching your back, you rake your fingers through the bedsheets, already feeling the heady sensation of the approaching euphoria.

“Ja-Jacob!”


	4. Older!Jacob Frye/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Older!Jacob Frye/Reader  
Modern AU  
Smut

Imagine - an older Jacob being your teacher or your boss, but also your secret lover. He’s booked a hotel room for you both one night but has to stay behind for a meeting, leaving a mischievous you left to your own devices in the hotel room.

You strip down, pose seductively and send him a few photos of your upper half. But then an even naughtier idea pops into your head. You unpack the vibrating wand you’d brought with you, send a few snaps, before setting the camera up to the ceiling and record a short video of you pleasuring yourself with it. He can hear everything but see nothing, which you’re certain will drive him mad.

You yelp when the door is thrown open, and there stands Jacob tearing his clothes off with a very angry smoulder on his face and a very erect cock poking out of his underwear.

You just smile innocently up at him as he approaches the bed, grabbing your ankles and dragging you down the mattress. You’ve riled him up a little too much, it would seem, based on the thorough fucking he gives you over the next few hours. Who says older men lack stamina?


	5. Jacob Frye/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Modern AU  
Smut

Imagine - phone sex with Jacob Frye.

I’m not sure if this one requires elaboration, but let’s face it - his voice is a sinful velvet purr. And it would be playing right down your ear as though he were right there with you:- your body rocking in his arms: his teeth tugging your earlobe: his hands bringing you to orgasm instead of your own.

Would he ask you what you’re doing, what you’re thinking about?

Or would he be the one instructing you and telling you what he’d do to you if he were there?

Either way, be certain he’s on the other end of the line, stroking himself to your breathy moans, the audible shudders as his name tumbles sweetly from your lips, and as embarrassing as it might be, the wet sounds of your fingers thrusting in and out of your pussy - because yes, he can hear it.

_**“**That’s my girl, come for me.”_


	6. Jacob Frye/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye  
Ambiguous Timeline  
Smut

Imagine - riding Jacob in reverse cowgirl.

He’s got a spectacular view of your ass as it bounces, clapping against his thighs. He can’t resist grabbing handfuls of your cheeks, rubbing the skin affectionately before spanking it pink.

And when you interchange the up and down motion for a circular gyration of your hips, well he throws his head back and purrs, “Attagirl.”

Between his sinful voice and his cock rubbing your walls in just the right spot, involuntary shivers run down your spine. Your head slumps forward with a breathy curse, the tingles of a minor orgasm rippling through you, before you resume riding him, the new slickness allowing your hips to buck in a wild frenzy.


	7. Jacob Frye/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye  
Ambiguous Timeline  
Smut

Imagine - being intimate with Jacob Frye and spying your reflection in the mirror near the bed.

He’s got you on all fours so there isn’t much you can see to begin with, just the wardrobes parallel to your bed. But you savour the way he groans, his hips snapping into you, the feel of his hands gripping you firmly by the waist, of his cock ploughing deep inside you, the sound of the bedsprings creaking in time to the sighs that emanate from both of your lips.

You nuzzle your burning cheek into the bedsheets beneath you, letting your hazy gaze drift to the side. You coo at the sight, forgetting a mirror was placed so close to the bed, coincidentally at the perfect angle to watch your lover’s every move too.

It’s a delicious scene. He kneels upright with a straight back, his chest muscles taut and dripping with sweat. His hair sways in his vision, his lips parted, his flushed face twisted in bliss. If only you were in a different position, one facing him, you’d definitely be raking your nails down his matted chest hair, his name a sultry whisper on your lips against his ear. You curse at that thought, feeling his pace double with a smack to your ass.

Running your hand back, you press your palm over his, squeezing it and encouraging him with bucks of your hips, your ass pressing back against his thrusts. Splaying his hands down your lower back, your upper body sinks into the bed as you fist the bedsheets, your ass presented high for him to rock his hips against.

“Ohhh, Jacob, right there.”

He leans forward, positioning his hands either side of your shoulders. You can’t help the way your hips gyrate against him, the shudders that surge through you, the “ahh God"s that tumble from your lips.

"You gonna be a good girl and come?”

Nodding frantically, your moans shaky, he smirks at your wordless response. Driving you to incoherency is always one of his goals when he fucks you.

“Good girl,” he praises, purring sinfully, the snaps of his hips breaking their rhythm as he approaches his own orgasm. Unwilling to finish first, he ushers, “Let me feel you, love.”

With a final spank to your ass, you feel yourself jerking in orgasm, howling as burning white light floods your vision. All you can focus on is the tight fluttering of your walls as they clamp down around his cock, which throbs erratically in response, filling you with the warm ropes of his come.

Panting heavily, you bury your face in the bedsheets, vaguely registering the burning trail of kisses Jacob plants down your back. You hum, light-headed and dizzy, barely mustering the energy to squeeze your walls firmly around his twitching length, causing his breath to hitch.

“Stop that, you minx,” he laughs breathlessly, pulling out from your heat and marvelling at the way his come trickles down your thighs.

You let gravity pull your hips down to the mattress, laying prone on your stomach, your head supported in your folded arms, your thighs fidgeting at the uncomfortable dripping sensation. After cleaning himself off on the bathroom, you feel a towel press against your sex as he wipes you down, chucking the sullied fabric into the laundry basket before joining you in bed, curling your body into his.

“How was that?”

You think you mumble a response, but you couldn’t say for sure. Jacob simply chuckles, peppering kisses down your shoulder blade, his hand settling on your hip and tracing shapes idly.

“That good, huh?”

Muttering at him to shut up, you roll over and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as you recover, smiling against the racing heartbeat echoing beneath his chest.

Yep, that good.


	8. Ratonhnhaké:ton/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratonhnhaké:ton/Reader  
Ambiguous Timeline  
Smut

Imagine - a relaxing evening in with Ratonhnhaké:ton.

You straddle his thighs, the both of you nude on the couch as you ride his cock. Your hands roam every part of his body, yearning to touch every part of him at once - his soft cheeks, his silky hair, the firm muscles of his shoulders as they curve into biceps; not to mention his burly chest, aching to rake your nails down the plane of his abdomen and elicit those sweet shudders, or even rest your hands behind you on his powerfully-built thighs to support your ardent bucks.

It’s no secret that Ratonhnhaké:ton has a fascination with breasts, particularly when they jounce so erotically before his eyes, your skin flushed and supple, your nipples firm buds that beseech him to make contact.

With his hands cupping your breasts, he ducks his head forward, latching around a nipple and tugging it between his lips with a gratified hum. Your back stiffens, your hips changing from their previous bouncing motion to a back and forth sway, mimicking a tide as it rolls and retreats to and fro the land.

He pleasures you with his coarse tongue, slick enough to slip over your sensitive skin and warm enough to cause each bud to stiffen in turn. Grazing his teeth over the nub, he glances up at you to check your reaction, tugging a little rougher when your hooded gaze pleads him so.

Between the springs of the couch squeaking, the flames of the fire crackling, the lewd sound of skin slapping skin and the sensation of his tongue and his cock driving you towards a heady and deliriously delectable orgasm, you find yourself closing your eyes and focusing on the tension building in your lower stomach.

Your sounds are no longer your own, every coo, every ahh, every last whimper and beg of his name echoes in the distance. Everything burns and you don’t want it to stop, wishing in this moment that you could remain right here, linger on the very edge of orgasm for the rest of time, basking in the warmth of his cock pulsing inside you like a heartbeat.

With several elated cries, your nails dig into his shoulders as your movements jerk, his lips parting from your nipple to murmur praise. His lips brush over your throat, peppering kisses over your pulse point as you swallow and gulp down air, barely registering your hips still rocking as you ride through your release to lead him to his own.

Nuzzling his cheek in your chest, his hands gripping your buttocks tightly, he finds himself groaning against your breasts, his hips rolling upwards in chasing the wonderful heat of your walls fluttering around his length. He cries your name, breathing in sharply as his cock releases a jet inside you, before slipping out and spurting several more ropes of come against your stomach.

He strokes your hips, you lay your head on his shoulder, the two of you remain like that until your breathing slows, coherency returning to the two of you. You manage to nudge his face towards you, brushing a stray bit of hair from his clammy forehead while smiling languidly at him.

Huffing, he pulls you in for a fervent kiss, wrapping his arms around you and cradling you as close as you’ll go, simply unable to get enough of you.


	9. Ratonhnhaké:ton/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratonhnhaké:ton/Reader  
Modern AU  
Smut

Imagine - Ratonhnhaké:ton trying something new.

You’d mentioned once that you have a kink for being woken up with oral, the thought of which admittedly stirs heat in his abdomen too. He has always wanted to try it, but it was always either the case that you rose before him, or he would return home from a mission with barely enough energy to climb into bed, let alone stay awake long enough for more physical activity.

Tonight, however, he feels he has more than enough energy to stay awake for a short while, the time apart making him hornier than ever and in desperate need to make you come. Siezing the opportunity, he draws back the blanket and takes a moment to appreciate your sleepwear, before shimmying the lower half down your hips with some effort. Your underwear follows as he carefully nudges the fabric down your legs, unsure how to proceed.

You stir to a peculiar sensation between your thighs, a cold wetness paired with something incredibly warm blooming upwards through your middle. You had been dreaming about shopping for dresses with Connor, but you find yourself baffled by the abrupt turn in events, the feeling comparable to a tongue slipping in and out of your sex.

Oh.

“Ohh,” you find yourself grabbing handfuls of silky hair, waking up fully and registering your lover’s movements in the dark.

His tongue curls inside your sex, lapping up your juices as his fingers squeeze your splayed thighs. Slipping out, he flicks upwards over your clit, swiping the bundle of nerves and sucking it into his mouth.

“Welcome home,” you mewl, your hips gyrating against his tongue, your thighs splaying further apart to accommodate him closer.

He hums his response, the sound muffled with his tongue pressed against your sex. Your fingers on one hand dig into the bedsheets by the side of you, your head rolling from side to side with intervallic moans slipping past your pursed lips.

Slipping a finger inside your pussy, he rocks it back and forth before pushing in a second digit, shivers rumbling through you as goosebumps erupt along your spine. He replaces his tongue with his thumb for a moment, his honey voice murmuring darkly, “Good morning.”

You’d glare at him if you could; but your eyes roll back, the sounds tumbling from your lips pornographic and wanton. Hiding his smile by returning his tongue to your clit, he makes note to learn more of your hidden desires in the near future.


	10. Ratonhnhaké:ton (Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratonhnhaké:ton  
Canon Timeline  
Angst

Imagine - Connor laying flowers for Ziio on Mother’s Day.

In the years following his father’s death, Ratonhnhaké:ton busied himself with rebuilding the Colonial Brotherhood - personally training new recruits, continuing his missions as usual, expanding the network of Assassins. He was left with little time to himself, but nothing could prevent him from accomplishing one personal project.

Having been the sole inheritor of Achilles Davenport’s estate, he invested in two memorials - one in memory of his late mentor, the other located in a private garden south of the Homestead, which he dedicated to his mother, Kaniehtí:io.

Every Mother’s Day, he spends a few hours at her grave, and tells her all about his life, everything that’s new since he last visited, speaking only in Mohawk. This is his sanctuary, the single place he can count on being alone and embrace the quiet that comes with it.

Well, maybe ‘alone’ isn’t quite right. After all, his mother promised she would always be with him.


	11. Ratonhnhaké:ton/Reader (Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratonhnhaké:ton/Reader  
Canon Timeline  
Fluff

Imagine - Ratonhnhaké:ton styling your hair in the ways of his tribe.

"These are called long braids," he explains, entwining the final strands of hair into place.

You've always enjoyed the peaceful intimacy of Connor playing with your hair. The way he handles it like silk between his fingers is unlike anything you've experienced in a relationship. This session began no differently, until his hands adopted minds of their own, parting and weaving your hair loosely, before humming decisively and letting the plait unravel.

He'd began searching through drawers, leaving you baffled in his wake; but before you could question him, he'd returned with an assortment of materials, resuming his handiwork in silence.

He presses his palms into your shoulders, informing you that he's done as he guides you upright and over to the mirror. It takes a moment to recognise your own reflection, blinking once, twice to fully absorb the image before you. Your hair, in lieu of its usual do, is comprised of twin braids that frame your face, the weaves secured tight and adorned with cord and beads.

Connor remains behind you, lingering in the background of your sight with a soft smile warming his cheeks. Pressing his lips into your crown, he tries in vain to hide the pride and adoration in his expression.

The meaning of this entire gesture is far from lost on you; your lips remain ajar, your eyes wide in taking in all the details. Your vocabulary falls short of words to sufficiently describe your gratitude, but you felt it necessary to say something.

"It's beautiful."

"Yes..." he breathes, seemingly in agreement. Upon feeling the warmth of his palm cup your face, you turn your head a fraction to meet him. With his free hand, he strokes your cheek with the back of his finger, his gaze soft, far from shy in cherishing the sight of you looking like this. "You are."


	12. Ratonhnhaké:ton/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratonhnhaké:ton/Reader  
Ambiguous Timeline  
Smut

Imagine - a virgin Connor being insecure about his <strike>huge</strike> size.

“I do not wish to hurt you.” His eyebrows are creased, he almost looks pained making this confession. “I am not… Small.”

What? _Oh_.

Well if that is his only concern, you’re sure you can help settle his doubts. Gazing up at him with the most seductive face you can muster, you tease, “If you let me see, I can determine that for myself.”

He’s blushing, averting his gaze but nodding his consent. Stripping his final few layers, you marvel at the sight of his sex, a rich honey in colour, uncut and thick in girth.

Your hand approaches before you pause at the last second. Afraid to startle him with cold hands, you ask, “May I touch you?”

He nods, so you handle his cock, semi-erect and twitching at the warmth of your palm. Brushing back the foreskin, your hand jerks his length, your fingers massaging the leathery texture of his sensitive skin. Your tongue swirls over the exposed head, both your nostrils and your tastebuds tantalised by the musky taste, salty like sweat.

With a moan, you press forward, more of his cock sinking further into the warm depths of your mouth. You bob your head back and forth, stimulating what you can. You can feel him harden against your cheek, pulsing as more blood rushes south. You simply slick his length with saliva, and your lips shift back and forth without a problem.

Well, apart from the delicious arousal that starts to build between your thighs. But that’s less of a problem, more of a topic to address later on.

So you kneel before his towering stature, your hands braced at his hips, bobbing your head in his lap as your tongue works wonders, swirling, lapping and flicking. Is it any wonder his fingers find themselves buried in your hair, his hips rocking ever so faintly, his eyes closed as he pants? He’s entranced by your movements, only able to imagine what your sex would feel like clamping around him with its wet scorching heat.

If sex is anything like this, he thinks, it might just become his new favourite activity.


	13. Jacob Frye/Reader (Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Canon Timeline  
Fluff

Imagine - going for a walk through the streets of London with Jacob Frye.

Arm in arm, you stroll through the City of London, favouring the borough for its individual shops and stalls. You’ve always preferred to support small businesses; from bakers to florists, you view the individuals as artists in their trades, and such talent, such devotion to their work should be recognised and rewarded.

Not to mention the aesthetic of the streets; cobblestone paths leading towards corner shops, the fronts of the buildings brightly painted in minty greens and lilacs, those quaint signs showcasing the family’s name with great pride. A simple inhale has you feeling very much like a child again, immersed in sweet-smelling flowers and breads, fudge and fruit pies alluring you inside the shops.

You often carry a small bit of coin in your purse, tucked safely away under your many skirts; though it’s in your nature to think the best of people, you’re far from naïve - and carrying more than a few shillings about your person would be most unwise. Tugging softly on Jacob’s arm, you grab his attention, steering him towards a sweets shop.

Tall glass jars line shelves upon the walls, pear drops, Turkish delight, marshmallows and more showcased for patrons to see. You remember being a young girl, the top of your head barely matching the height of the merchant’s counter, but you didn’t mind back then; it meant your favourite product was at eye-level, a tray full of home-made toffee just beyond your reach behind a sheet of glass.

You make your purchase, watching with the same awe from all those years ago as the merchant smashes the slab with a small silver hammer, packaging the fragments in a brown paper bag and tying the package with string.

Upon safely tucking the parcel away in your pocket, returning your purse to its usual spot, you ruffle your skirts to conceal the items, making your exit with Jacob on your arm once more.

As the two of you round a corner, the sound of an accordion grows ever louder, playing the high notes of a jolly tune you’re unfamiliar with. But all the same, you find yourself twirling to face your love, a smile on your face as warm as sunshine.

Returning your smile, Jacob tips his top hat with a bow, and gestures his hand to take yours. Adopting a comically plummy accent, he croons, “Would you care to dance, Madam?”

Unable to stifle your giggles, you curtsy and slip your fingers between his. You retort with the most refined tone you could deliver on the spot, “Why, Mr. Frye, I thought you’d never ask.”

You dance in the alley between shops, the world zoning out around you. There’s only the stones beneath your feet, the music guiding your steps, and your love’s eyes boring into yours with sincere joy.


	14. Jacob Frye/Reader (Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Canon Timeline  
Fluff, Domestic  
TW: children

Imagine - going on a day trip with Jacob Frye and your toddler daughter.

The weather is unseasonably pleasant for mid-April, the sun surprising you with its genial rays, a crisp breeze cooling the air just enough to keep mugginess at bay. With such glorious weather, you decide to make the most of the day.

As chance would have it, Jacob has a clear schedule - no doubt he cleared it upon overhearing your plans, swiftly distributing his tasks across his most trusted Rooks. London would be in safe hands for the day, so the three of you board a train bound for the coast.

By the way his eyes sparkle on the journey, you’d think he were the infant in your lap. Though that’s no criticism. You find every part of him endearing, mischief and all. And although he commutes daily on a train, you doubt Bertha grants such colourful views travelling between London stations. In lieu of the urban, grey smog, your window showcases beautiful greenery, blurred from the rickety-rackety sway of the carriage. So far be it from you to shun his enthusiasm.

Truth be told, you’re excited by the prospect of spending time together as a family in its entirety. Jacob isn’t an absent father by any means, but you’re quite certain some quality time away from the city will do father and daughter a world of good.

After departing the station and finding your way, you’re strolling down the pier. You point out the swans gliding on the river beneath you, ducking their heads under the surface and kicking their legs behind them as though attempting to do a handstand. You gasp at your daughter, gushing excitement to rouse a similar reaction from her. She babbles with a wide, open-mouthed smile, the pink of her gums on show, her cheeks chubby, her eyes twinkling as she takes in the scene with the most curious awe.

Glancing across at your husband, you find yourself smiling at his profile. He looks handsome, you muse, dressed in a simple shirt with his sleeves rolled back, and a waistcoat with a cap shielding his face from the sun’s rays. His gaze is focused on the swans, his face scrunched up in concentration, unflinching when you approach him and lay your head on his shoulder.

“No, Jacob.”

He grumbles, “How do you always know what I’m thinking?“

Further along the pier, you stop for ice cream at a quaint café. Deciding now is as good a time as any to introduce your toddler to the cold treat, you feed her minute spoonfuls from your own glass, thankful your handkerchief is at the ready when she mashes her lips together, the melting liquid dribbling down her chin.

"I wonder who she takes after,” Jacob muses aloud.

Upon diverting your attention for a second to face him, Y/C/N grabs a handful of ice cream and shoves her fist in her mouth, her giggles ringing out for a moment before her smile drops, brain freeze ailing her. As her lip wobbles, she looks up, her gaze shifting between you and Jacob for an explanation to the sudden discomfort, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

Jacob scoops her up, hushing and cradling her in his chest to diffuse the imminent tantrum. Your heart swells at the sight, imagining Jacob was quite the same as a child - if his recklessness in adulthood is anything to go by. Planting a kiss on his whiskers, she leaves an imprint of cream on his jaw, scowling at the ice cream as though it’s her new worst enemy.

With their profiles side-by-side, it would be impossible to miss the similarities between the two of them. Her hair falls short of her shoulders, tumbling in a cascade of brown tresses that peek out from under her white bonnet. Her face is round with rosy cheeks akin to apples, her father’s dark brows complimenting curved eyelashes that are becoming of a porcelain doll. Soft, hazel eyes forever marvel at the world around her, seldom bereft of adventure and trouble. You’ve often wondered if she’ll grow to be as much of a handful as her father, the thought of his childish nature making him a better father putting many of your fears at rest.

“Something wrong, love?”

You register the way Y/C/N gurgles, pressing her mouth against Jacob’s face and blowing wet raspberries; he looks on with concern, oblivious to the drool gathering on his cheek.

“Not at all,” you smile genuinely, ducking your head down and playing with your spoon to hide your beaming face.

She’s her father’s daughter, alright.


	15. Older Ezio Auditore/Reader (Mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Older! Ezio Auditore/Reader  
Canon Timeline

Imagine - married life with Ezio Auditore.

Boneless, breathless, you lie beneath your lover, shivers still surging through your body as your multiple orgasms begin to take their toll - you hadn't been certain on what to expect when marrying the older gentleman, as the stories you had to go off were pertaining to his days of youth. Yet the spasms currently coursing through your limbs seem to dismiss age as a factor, the rosy flush in your face and chest a testament to the incredible sexual experience.

Gazing up at Ezio, you brush the slick hair from his soft, brown eyes, smiling at him as best as you can in your post-orgasmic bliss.

"My sweet husband," you purr; though you're approaching your fourth month of marriage, the title never fails to spark a feeling of exhilaration within you.

The feeling seems quite mutual, as he chuckles in response, a breathy sort of laugh indicative of his panting state; nudging his nose against yours, he replies, "My sweet minx of a wife."

"You chose to marry this minx."

"Sì." He grins at your faux pout, lowering his voice to a sensual husk. "And not a second goes by where I don't count myself the luckiest man in Italy, cuore mio."

He cups your face, reaffirming his words with a revering study of your features, his thumb stroking your cheek without thought. Humming his appreciation, he closes the distance between your lips, kissing you with fierce passion.

You moan sweetly, meeting the flicks of his tongue with your own, the softness of his lips proving to be as heady as the kisses he initiated earlier in the evening. Your thighs fidget at the feeling of fresh moisture coating your lips, your hands moving to brace yourself at his shoulders before he rolls the two of you over.

You lie with your chest pushed against his, your legs veritably tangled from the sudden movement. The kiss deepens, your foreheads pressing together as though any space between you is a sheer tragedy, the other's breath hot on one another's lips.

His hands itch to roam your beautiful body once more, his mind torn between splaying his palms down your back and caressing the curves of your hips. In shifting your position a fraction to get more comfortable, your crease brushes against his cock, drawing your attention to the way his erection is twitching back to life.

Nibbling his lip to part the kiss, you tease in a breathy voice, "Signore Auditore, you're insatiable."

"Are you complaining?"

You notice how his hands have crept over to the sides of your thighs, rounding their path over to your ass as he squeezes the two cheeks, lightly swatting your soft skin. A shiver trembles through your spine; you sit upright in his lap, noting the way his eyes widen and shine at the sight of you in such a position.

"Never."


	16. Shay Cormac/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shay Cormac/Reader  
Canon Timeline  
Smut

Imagine - meeting Shay Cormac at the docks.

He can’t quite believe his eyes.

It’s not that you’re standing at the docks waiting for him, no. That’s a sight he’s grown quite fond of, a sight that reminds him he’s home and soon to be in the arms of his sweet wife. It’s a sight that gives him that penultimate spark, that drives him to complete the last leg of the journey, to steer the ship into position, call out for the anchor and hop over the railings to envelop himself in the warmth of your embrace.

He eagerly awaits that, that’s a certainty. But the source of his enthusiasm for today is the low-cut dress you wear, your breasts squeezed up and together under the plunging neckline. He can’t concentrate on anything else, swallowing as his eyes trace the supple curves of your cleavage, the chatter of his crew fading in the background.

Not registering the movement of his feet or the smile you flash him upon seeing him approach you, his world narrows down to the lone thought of holding you. You stifle a gasp when his lips crush against yours, his hands smoothing over the broad hipline of your skirt as your hands clasp behind his neck. His thumbs trace circles on your sides, little tendrils of pleasure blooming in your stomach in response to the affectionate gesture.

You blush upon feeling his tongue probe the seam of your lips, wishing you didn’t have an audience of seamen observing your reunion. You don’t know what has become of him, his hot breath warming your lips with every full, open-mouthed kiss, unapologetically fervent and devout in his actions. Shay nibbles your lower lip, grazes his teeth over the tip of your tongue, groaning huskily into the kiss, a sound you’re certain is heard by the neighborhood.

With great reluctance, he breaks the kiss, nudging your forehead with his own as he mumbles in Gaelic - whether they’re profanities or prayers, you’re not entirely sure. But upon opening his eyes and peering into your own, his lips curve into an impish smile, taking you by the hand and darting through the back alleys with you in tow.

Giggling along the way, your free hand hoists your skirt up as your feet splash through puddles of mud and rainwater. Shay pins you against a wall, his gaze flicking from side to side before capturing your jaw with his hand, rubbing his thumb along your lips while grinning at you.

Sparks fly when his lips meet yours again, his kisses longer but no less urgent than before. Brushing his lips over to your jaw, he targets the sensitive spots on your neck and down the front of your throat, nipping the particularly ticklish points before soothing the skin with fond laps of his tongue.

You find yourself wriggling against the wall, your head rolling back to accommodate his head as it descends your collar bone, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses in its wake. Conscious of the public setting, you bite your lip to muffle your wanton sighs, barely trusting yourself to murmur his name, should anyone overhear; and now that he’s home, you don’t think you could take any further interruptions.

With a swift jerk of his wrist, a rush of cold air hits your skin, your breasts spilling out from your corset. Shay inhales excitedly, his hands cupping the full orbs, his eyes absorbing the beauty of you with the greatest awe. From the lovely shade of your skin and the dusky colour of your nipples, to the way the buds pucker and grow firm under his thumb’s strokes, he worships every part of your chest.

Pressing his face into the soft skin, his fingers fumble with your many layers, bundling your skirt and reaching for your underwear, pulling them down as you shimmy and step out of them. He tugs at his own clothes, unbuckling his belt and snapping his trousers and breeches down his legs, his teeth nipping the soft curves that border his face.

Hooking one leg around his waist, you draw him near, lifting his chin with a single finger and capturing his lips once more, so that you might stifle your inevitable crooning. Shay presses his cock into you, his breath hitching at the welcome squeeze your walls provide. Neither of you expect to last particularly long, especially when you look into one another’s eyes and see the desperation caused by many nights bereft of the other’s company.

He establishes a frantic pace, filling you over and over with his length. You can feel the outline of bricks press into your back, but the bucks of your lover’s hips is more than enough to distract you from any discomfort, a wondrous weight forming in the pit of your stomach with every snap of his hips. Your eyes roll back, marvelling in the display of colours dancing behind your eyelids, your body moulding around his at your coupling.

Feverishly, Shay litters your décolletage with kisses and lip bites, shuddering and huffing with every rough jerk as he pounds into you. Your nails dig into his leather coat, leaving crescent-shaped marks as you desperately cling to his form, in the hope that you might anchor yourself to the moment.

Shushing you excitedly when your voice begins to warble, Shay finds himself crashing his lips against yours to quieten the stream of moans that increase in pitch and volume as you begin to come undone; your walls desperately clenching and releasing, throbbing like a pulse around his length.

Pulling out, he shoots his load at the wall, his come dripping down the bricks and forming a pool on the ground. Your leg trembles and gives way, though Shay is quick to catch you, rearranging his grip to support you, the leg that had been draped around his hip returning to an upright position.

The two of you pant heavily, and he takes a moment to admire your disheveled hair and bright cheeks.

“Hello,” you quip.

“Hello.” Christ, his smirk is cheeky. “God I missed you,” he murmurs.

“Hmm, I couldn’t quite tell.”

You laugh at his playful scowl and pull him in for a kiss, moaning sweetly and pressing your chest into his. Cupping your jaw, his fingers tangle in the stray bounce of curls that had fallen loose from your braid. He nudges your nose, boring his eyes into yours for a moment of simple bliss, humming his appreciation before fixing both of your outfits and taking you by the hand.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Home. Something tells me you’re not entirely sated yet, lass.”

You shrug, tilting your head in agreement - it would be hard to be insulted by the comment, particularly when you suspect he feels quite the same way. Pinching his bottom, you skip ahead of him, before twirling on the spot and lowering your voice with a twinkle in your eye.

“You can have me when you catch me, Captain.”

He shakes his head with a smirk, walking leisurely behind you and giving you a generous headstart.

After a few minutes, he begins the chase, running through the streets and draping his arms around you not long after, tickling you and peppering your face with kisses from behind.


	17. Shay Cormac/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shay Cormac/Reader  
Modern AU  
Smut

Imagine - Shay Cormac sleeping over for the night.

Having replaced your old quilt with a thicker one, your bed has become a haven of heavenly comfort, one you’re loath to leave each morning, but quite eager to clamber into every night. And with a certain man occupying the left side of the bed, you find yourself feeling more eager than usual.

Shay is sitting upright in bed, flipping through a book when he feels you staring at him. His eyes unmoving from the page, he probes, “What?”

You smile sweetly in response, your signature smile whenever you want something. Letting his gaze flick to you, he chuckles at your coy expression, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” He repeats.

After fiddling with a button on your shirt to draw his attention to your upper half, you swiftly undo them and lift the shirt over your head, throwing it nowhere in particular. Shay folds his book over and places it on the bedside table, watching you with a quirked brow, amused by your silent show.

You unclasp your bra, shrug it off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor, then unbutton your jeans and wiggle out of them, stepping out of the legs, standing at the foot of the bed dressed only in your knickers.

Sliding into bed next to him, wordlessly boring your eyes into his, your thumb begins stroking his lips with a mind if its own, yearning for the rose-like softness of his skin. His eyes remain on yours for as long as he can manage, before his gaze twitches south, admiring your bare breasts that fill his vision.

You arch into him for a kiss, muffling a moan and lying the both of you down. His hands settle on your hips, his fingers revelling in the soft cotton of your underwear.

Your tongue probes his lips, and he darts his own out to meet yours. Grazing your teeth over his tongue, you suck lightly on the tip, causing him to gasp into your mouth and roll the two of you over with abrupt fervour.

Feeling the spring of his cock brush against your naked thigh, you slip your hands under his shirt, warming them in the heat of his stomach, rubbing sensual circles before moving higher to his chest, splaying your palms out over his pecs. You map the contours of his remarkable muscles, barely keeping up with the heady movements of his lips against yours. Skimming your fingertips back down his chest, you trace your palm over his bulge.

He nudges your face to the side, and you yield to his demand, cooing upon feeling him kiss his way across your cheek and down your jaw. Nibbling along your neck, he grinds his erection into your palm, your nipples hardening in response to your own arousal. Your thighs begin to fidget from the stickiness of your sex growing wet, certain Shay would be able to feel the heat radiating from under the flimsy fabric covering your pussy.

Bracing his arm by your head, he skims his lips downwards, paying close attention to your collar bone first, the swell of your breast second, nuzzling his cheek in the soft mound. He litters kisses back up your jaw, inching his way towards your ear, where he murmurs your name in that delectable Irish brogue.

Your fingers stroke your new quilt, not only craving the weight of his body fully flush against you, but curious what the weight of the quilt would feel like too.

Closing your eyes, your imagination runs wild picturing your bodies writhing as one under the quilt, clammy and damp with sweat. The blankets would cover your coupling from the outside world, only riding as low as his shoulder blades, concealing your hands as they rake down his back and grab handfuls of his delicious arse as he pounds into you with explicit hunger, eliciting all sorts of keens and squeals. With his lips pressed to your ear, he would chant your name, his voice dripping with sin.

Your eyes burning into his, you adopt as sultry a tone as you can muster, murmuring, “Fuck me, Shay.

Though it takes him a moment to register your words, he soon smirks before shrugging his shirt over his head, revealing his godlike chest in the process.

"Yes, Ma'am.”


	18. Shay Cormac/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shay Cormac/Reader

Imagine - making sensual love with Shay when it’s stormy outside.

You kneel on the bed together, you in his lap facing away, rocking your hips into his shallow thrusts. His lips pepper your neck with kisses, his hands roaming your body. Squeezing your shoulders, cupping your breasts, flicking a sly finger against your nipples as you moan lowly. Splaying down your stomach, curving around your hips, caressing your thighs with gentle squeezes.

Between the sound of the wind roaring outside, the rain tapping on your window, the bed creaking, skin slapping, Shay groaning praise into your ear, his breath hitching at the scorching heat engulfing his cock over and over, it doesn’t take you long at all to announce your approaching orgasm.

Knowing exactly how to tip you over the edge, his hand dives down to your sex, fingers slick with his saliva as they slide over your clit perfectly. He bites down on the crux of your shoulder, sucking the spot with curled lips with the intention to mark you. His fingers on his free hand twist and tug one of your nipples, the combination of all his actions eliciting mewls of bliss, your head snapped back, your pussy throbbing and clenching tightly as you ride out a wonderful orgasm.

_“Oh God, Shay!”_


	19. Shay Cormac/Reader (Explicit)

Imagine - stirring in Shay’s arms one morning, your eyes still closed as you take in everything that’s happening around you.

You can hear the crew’s shanties being sung heartily in the background, the crashing of the waves as they lap against the Morrigan’s hull; you can feel the sway and bounce as the ship stays buoyant, a motion that once induced seasickness but has since become a source of comfort more than anything. You can feel the presence of a warm body next to yours, the weight of a toned arm around your middle and a silky mass of dark hair nuzzled into your shoulder. Hot puffs of air and the presses of lazy kisses warm your skin and announce your lover’s rousing.

“What time is it?” Shay gruffs.

With Gist keeping the ship running smoothly overnight, it’d soon be time for Shay to relieve him from his post. You stifle a yawn, head rolling to the side as those kisses find their way creeping up your neck.

“Barely dawn,” you simper, fingers twirling a strand of dark hair as his own fingers ghost over your breasts. He grunts in response.

His scent fills your nostrils as he comes ever closer, and God is it a heady sensation. The smell of him, of Captain Shay Patrick Cormac, couldn’t be described as anything else but sweet musk and saltwater. Between the Irish brogue, his masculine smell, his touch that never failed to drive you into a frenzy, he’s nothing short of perfect. Even the scars that lace his body add a certain roguish appeal.

Finally cracking your eyes open to face him, you find your noses bumping together, his brown gaze boring into yours and you blush under the scrutiny. His lips find yours in no time, maneuvering his body over yours so he has you pinned on your back, bedsheets discarded, fingers intertwined with your hands placed above your head. Your legs part to accommodate his hips between them, gasping into the kiss at the feel of his erect cock pressing against your naked thigh.

The outside world becomes white noise to you, zoning out and focusing instead on the softness of his tongue probing the seam of your lips, curling into your own tongue once accepted into the warm cavern of your mouth. You certainly feel more awake now, your mind registering the wetness forming at your crease between your thighs, your clit aching, throbbing even, as though cursing whoever dares deprive it of a well-needed touch.

Your hands squeeze his in a plead to let you touch him, the desperate, carnal urge to scratch your nails down the muscles of his arms, his back, and pull his hips flush against yours now your main priority. He eventually relents, lifting his body just enough to grab hold of his cock, spitting into his palm and stroking the fluid down his shaft. You whimper at the sight of him touching himself, your hips lifting up from the mattress in a silent plea. You feel a hand rest beside your head as he shifts his weight, smirking down at you.

“Such a needy girl. Mmh but I agree.” He lines up his mouth by your ear before continuing. “What’s a few more hours in bed?”

The crew outside start at the cry that tears from your throat, Gist shaking his head with a chuckle at the unmistakable sound of the Captain’s bed creaking rhythmically as the din is heard across the ship. The deep groans and breathy chants of his name don’t exactly paint an innocent picture, so when all is finished and the two of you appear on deck, all eyes avert away from you and busy themselves with the tasks before them. You quirk an eyebrow at your lover at the crew’s reaction to you, he simply shrugs and smiles with faux innocence, sauntering over to the helm with a distinct air of smugness.


	20. Jacob Frye/Reader (Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Ambiguous Timeline  
Fluff

Imagine - waking up early in the morning to Jacob sleeping with his head lying on your chest.

He looks so cosy, bless him. Tuckered out from his strenuous lifestyle, all of that running, climbing and leaping certain to have him out cold the second he flops down onto the bed. His hand lies across your stomach, his shoulders visibly rising and falling with each soft breath.

You can't help yourself; reaching your fingers out to comb through his hair, you pat his head in a way that leaves him smiling in his dreams, nuzzling your chest as he buries himself deeper in the calm and comfort only you can provide.

"I love you," you whisper, before closing your eyes to join him for a few more hours of sleep.


	21. Choose Your Assassin/Reader (Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choose Your Assassin/Reader  
Ambiguous Timeline  
Fluff

Imagine - waking up in the middle of the night and finding your assassin lover standing by the window, completely butt naked, watching the storm outside.

You lift yourself up onto your elbows and admire the view; you’re not sure how, but you muster the energy to swing your legs over the edge of the bed and creep over to him, his back muscles tensing as he hears your movements. You crush your chest against his back and wrap your arms around him in a bear hug, nuzzling the toned muscles of his back with the side of your cheek. He feels warm, you muse, you’d consider it odd with him stood in the cold but you knew better by now that he radiates warmth in all weather. You plant kisses along his spine, and he closes his eyes and basks in the press of your smiles of affection and contentment.

It’s rare to get such a simple moment with the lives you have; even if he was there when you went to sleep you’d never know whether to expect him there when you wake up. You couldn’t say how long you both stood there, embracing. It just felt like too perfect of a moment to let go.


	22. Choose Your Assassin/Reader (Mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choose Your Assassin/Reader  
Ambiguous Timeline  
Smut

Imagine - your Assassin F/O spending the day worshipping your body, showering you with praise and showing off all the different ways they can make you sing your delight. They treat you to your favourite spots, experiment with new techniques to see what feels good, and by the end you’ve simply lost count of how many times they made you come - or had you not bothered to count to begin with? Your head just lulls into the comfort of their chest, a sleepy grin plastered over your face as you wonder, just how on earth are you ever going to pay them back?


	23. Jacob Frye/Reader (Mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Canonical Timeline  
Smut

Imagine - you’re the daughter of a high-profile, incredibly rich, incredibly powerful Templar in Victorian England. You yourself are not a Templar and if anything disagree with their beliefs. It’s because of this that the leader of the Rooks and Master Assassin Jacob Frye trusts you wholely. You’re in a secret relationship and both love each other more than words can say.

Jacob, frustrated at not being able to spend the time he’d like with you, with your consent stages a kidnapping and demands a ransom from your father. While you’re “held captive”, he takes you back to the Frye train and blows your mind with wonderful sex. He’s attentive, selfless, all he cares about is making you come as many times as he can muster. Fingers, tongue, cock, he doesn’t leave you with a second to catch your breath.

Not that you mind, it actually feels liberating to finally moan his name in a way you could never risk doing back home, should the both of you be overheard and caught. And God does he love the way his name sounds, tumbling from those beautiful lips while he’s fucking you. You drive him crazy, woman.


	24. Haytham Kenway/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haytham Kenway/Reader  
Canonical Timeline  
Smut

Imagine - Haytham Kenway having exhibitionist tendencies.

He’s got you bent over his desk, stripped down with your wrists tied behind your back. His tricorn has been placed neatly on the desk but he’s still dressed - if you can call it that - his shirt and breeches untucked, attire completely disheveled. He’s driving into you with a force that elicits moans with every thrust, the silky head of his cock stimulating all the right spots inside you.

There’s a knock at his door.

“Come,” he raises his head at his subordinate entering the room, his pace never slowing despite your breathy protests. If you weren’t blushing before, you certainly were now, your cheeks comparable to lava as you bury your face in the paperwork littered under you. You couldn’t face the man now witnessing your pleasure, the way you squirmed on the Grandmaster’s cock, the visceral sounds that left your throat, try as you might to reclaim some dignity.

“I’m - I’m sorry, Sir. Perhaps I should come back at another time-”

“Nonsense, (Templar). Please, I’m most eager to hear your report.”

The voices continue in the background; you didn’t care much for their business and often tuned it out in any usual circumstance. But this isn’t exactly a circumstance you would consider usual, instead blocking out the chatter due to the concentration you desperately chase to keep yourself from coming in front of an audience. He isn’t expecting you to, is he? With each drive of his hips against your ass, you near the blissful peak, shuffling in your place in hopes to delay the inevitable.

“Hay-Haytham, please…” A quick slap on your cheek is his rebuttal, clearly communicating his disinterest in your mortification at the situation.

You can’t hold it, your body begins to tense and your mouth shoots open with a silent cry. Colours explode behind your eyelids and a visible shudder runs through you from head to toes. The sinful wet sounds of sex only double in volume as your cum coats Haytham’s cock and runs down your thighs, triggering his own release in turn.

You hear him dismiss the Templar and your body sinks to the desk - flustered and exhausted.


	25. Edward Kenway/Reader (Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward Kenway/Reader  
Ambiguous Timeline  
Banter

Imagine - post-coital banter with Edward Kenway.

“Are we getting out of shape?” you joked, finger idly tracing the flex of muscles currently occupying your waist. He responded in turn by tickling your midsection until you were in a fit of hysterical laughter, hand swatting his in surrender.

“Quite the contrary, lass,” his breathing came heavy down your ear, words gruff in that intoxicating Welsh brogue that would undoubtedly put sirens to shame. After placing little lip bites down the side of your neck, he continued, “You always give me one hell of a workout.”


	26. Choose Your Assassin/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choose Your Assassin/Reader  
Ambiguous Timeline  
Smut

Imagine - your F/O giving you oral.

After kissing you breathless, they descend down your body and study their effect on you; they take two fingers and spread the outer lips, mesmerised by the sweet scent they inhale.

“My my, love, is there ever a morning you don’t wake up dripping wet for me?”

You sigh dreamily, your fingers raking through their silky strands with encouragement.

“You–” a gasp interrupts your speech, startled by the sudden proximity of their tongue. “Y-you almost sound like you’re complaining, (f/o’s name).”

A fleeting moment of eye contact is all it takes, an utterance of “never” before they indulge themselves in your pussy.

They roll their tongue around your clit with a groan, flick their tongue south to dive inside your cavern, their moans vibrating through you at the sweet taste of your juices. Gathering your wetness on their tongue before continuing, they drag a line from your entrance to your clit. The new slickness allows them to slip over the circle of nerves in such a way that has you grasping their hair with one hand, your breast with your other, your hips writhing against their ministrations with eager moans tumbling from your parted lips.

They press a finger into you, wiggle it around, and pull out to the very pad of their fingertip before pushing back in with a second finger. They leave your clit for only as long as it takes to whisper, “That’s a good girl”, their lips determined to get back to suckling on your clit. Drawing it into their mouth and curling their tongue around it, they trace shapes with expertise while two fingers thrust into you, curling until they find that rough patch that has your body jerk and sing wantonly.

Your legs are torn between squeezing shut at the overstimulation and parting further to welcome even more pleasure. Your head slumps to the side, your fingers now plucking your nipples, your voice trembling murmurs of appreciation that guide your lover to the best spots. Begging for it faster, you’re surprised when they ascend your body, testing a third finger inside which is easily welcomed with how wet you are, their palm grinding against your clit in a see-saw motion.

Their lips crash against yours and in feeding you your own taste, you leap towards the tipping point. You lap up the sweet essence greedily, understanding why your lover couldn’t get enough of eating you out. Just the smell of it makes your head spin and drives you to bite down on their lips. Hard.

With your foreheads pressed together, you’re not sure if you thought your demands or voiced them aloud. Regardless they smirk.

“That’s it, my love, come for me.”

You barely register your hips jutter in time with their fingers’ caresses, your mind too hazy to focus on anything but the sources of your intense pleasure. Your gazes locked, your mouth agape with silent curses, your lungs late in producing a sharp breathy cry as the ripples surge through you. Body slumping, your brightly flushed face buried in the crook of their shoulder, you shudder at the feeling of their fingers just slowing down, withdrawing from your pussy with an embarrassing wet pop.

You open an eye to see their fingers presented before you, turning to avert your gaze before they captured your chin with their dry hand. Tentatively, as though anxious at the thought of expressing your lewd urges, you sucked a finger into your mouth, tongue swimming over the pad with a depraved groan.

“God, I love you.”

You glanced up from under your eyelashes, eyes smiling shyly in response as you continued to savour your come from their fingers.

It always was one of your favourite ways to start the day.


	27. Jacob Frye/Reader (Rating Unsure)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Canonical Timeline  
Angst & Slight Gore mention

Imagine - it’s the Autumn of Terror. Rooks are betraying their leader and your Mentor, Jacob Frye, left, right and centre. Heartbroken at the way he withdraws himself in depression, you’re determined to prove your loyalty to him. And since words of fealty no longer carry the strength they once had, you make the dated Assassin sacrifice and cut off your left ring finger.


	28. Ratonhnhaké:ton/Reader (Mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratonhnhaké:ton (Connor)/Reader  
Canonical Timeline  
Smut

Imagine - living at the Homestead and having a huge crush on the new boy, Connor. After waking up from a particularly lucid sex dream involving him, you take to masturbating, not realising that he’s home from a mission and very aware of your actions.

He doesn’t quite know how to respond when you bump into him the next day; every time you speak his name, all he can hear is the breathy way you sung his name the previous night, the commands you simpered of “fuck me” and “right there”.

That night, the same happens again. You have a dream, wake up dripping wet, but it’s obvious to Connor on the other side of the wall that you’re making efforts to be quieter tonight, knowing he’s around at the Homestead. He groans and rubs his temples with his fingers, his arousal making it impossible to sleep.

He gets up and knocks on your door, smiling at himself at the scrambling he heard from the other side.

“Just a minute, Achilles!”

You open the door, cheeks burning pink as little pants leave your lips. Your robe is haphazardly tied around you, but the outline of your nipples is still very visible under the right light. You spy Connor in the doorway, topless and looking incredibly exasperated. You try not to let your eyes linger for too long, but the way his erection juts up under his underwear is impressive, you muse.

He pushes into your room, a mixture of emotions surge through you. Confusion, at what’s happening. Intimidation, by the way his bulky frame seems to tower over you and stalk you like prey to the centre of the room. Arousal, for the exact same reasons.

“Con-Connor?”

His fingers snap open the tie of your robe, pushing the fabric back over your shoulders. You look up at his face, your eyebrows cocked as you wordlessly pose your questions. Tugging down his underwear, he steps forward and crashes your body into his, his nostrils finding your neck as he whispers hoarsely.

“I heard you. Not just tonight, but yesterday too.” You couldn’t be any more mortified at the prospect, averting your gaze before he captures your chin, his lips inching closer, trembling. Hesitating? you wonder.

“If, if you don’t want this, then say. But if you want something better than your hands to bring you pleasure tonight, I promise you’ll be coming until dawn.”


	29. Jacob Frye/Reader (Mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Canonical Timeline  
Fluff

Imagine - gatecrashing a royal party with Jacob Frye.

Using his rope launcher, he’ll take the two of you to the rooftops where you’ll dance and laugh like there isn’t a care in the world. The music booms from down below, the air is a refreshing Summer coolness, and everything just seems so perfect, especially when he plays the gentleman, bowing and tipping his hat after a song.

But of course that act doesn’t last long.

He’ll press his body up against yours from behind, teeth nipping your neck as your head rolls back with glorious moans, his hands cupping your breasts over the top of your dress. His stubble scratching your skin as he brushes his lips up to your earlobe, he whispers the dirtiest things in your ear, knowing exactly how to drive you wild.

_“Tell me, love. Have you ever been fucked on the rooftops of Buckingham Palace before?”_

_“Mmh, Mr. Frye, I can’t say that I have.”_

_“Shall we remedy that?”_


	30. Jacob Frye/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Ambiguous Timeline  
Smut

Imagine - waking up one morning to catch Jacob’s morning routine.

He rises from the bed and steps over to the window, basking in the early morning sun. He stretches his muscles and lets out a satisfied groan when the joints of his shoulders crack. But you’re more drawn to the fact he’s facing away from you, stark naked, showing off his marvelous ass - it’s an ass you were never shy about complimenting day-to-day, or grabbing and smacking in the throes of passion.

He tenses as he feels eyes on him, turns to face you with a cocky smile, his arms crossing over his chest as his eyes land on you, leaning on your elbows in bed, the blanket dipped under your naked breasts.

“Good morning, love.”

You want to make some witty retort, especially as your speechless staring only has him cock his scarred eyebrow higher, smirking to himself. The smug bastard knows exactly what he does to you.

You’re only human, for Christ sake.

Can he really blame you for being turned on by the toned curves of his biceps, that dark unruly chest hair that trails a path down his abdomen and frames his cock just perfectly, the tattoos and white nicks that mar his skin here and there? Of course if all that weren’t enough, he just has to be sporting a morning erection that twitches against his stomach the longer your eyes linger on it.

Figuring he has some time to kill before he absolutely has to show his face, he returns to you by the bed. Sitting up on your knees by the edge, you take his cock into your hands and jerk it a few times to let it harden, before wrapping your lips around it and plunging as much as the length in your mouth as you can take, determined to give him the best start to the day.

You can never put your finger on which part feels best to you:- the way his hands shoot to your hair, his fingers tangling in the bed-head strands as he rocks his fingers in an encouraging caressing motion: or the way the head of his cock pulses against your tongue, especially when your hands reach back to grab his ass, pulling him closer as your head bobs back and forth along his length.

God, does he love it when you’re awake early in the morning for him.


	31. Jacob Frye/Reader (Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Canonical Timeline

Imagine - being a royal maid at Buckingham Palace and making Jacob Frye’s acquaintance for the first time.

He has a meeting with Her Highness and you’re simply working in the background. Mid-conversation you glance up and catch his hazel eyes studying you before throwing you a wink and a cheeky smile that turns your cheeks warm.

Ducking your head to hide the spreading blush, you return to your work feeling very much like a crushing schoolgirl. Though any focus is long abandoned as the butterflies in your stomach swarm, daring you to glance up for a second look.

He’s out of your class, you muse, if the elegant garbs are anything to go by. Oh my, is his face enticing. His warm eyes that aren’t shy of undressing you, his trimmed beard inviting your fingers to scratch it, and those full, pink lips? You don’t even know where to begin.

But that night, your dreams are filled with lewd thoughts of how delicious those lips might feel stroking the most intimate of areas, his warm breath stalking the skin of your inner thighs, his tongue dabbing up the sweet taste of you.

And when you awake from such dreams?

Well, what’s a girl to do.


	32. Jacob Frye/Reader (Mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Modern AU  
Banter

Imagine - feeling exceptionally horny for Jacob all day.

It’s not the easiest life, being in a relationship with an assassin. As much as you’d like a sense of normalcy now and again, to dress up seductively and prepare a romantic dinner in time for when Jacob comes home - not to mention to actually _know_ when to expect him home - you knew from the beginning what was to be expected.

And you’re okay with that.

You trust him to take the correct precautions when he’s galavanting around London. It just makes the times when he comes home at an hour you’re awake all the sweeter.

As luck would have it, he manages to return home in the early evening, calling out your name as he closes the door behind him. You barely give him chance to step out of the hallway, assaulting him with hugs and somehow managing to utter “welcome home” in-between eager kisses to his cheeks.

He just chuckles, removes his hat and settles his hands at your waist, leaning down to reciprocate the kiss, his tongue parting your lips and curling into yours, eliciting a sweet moan from you. You arms travel up his body, hands connecting behind his neck as you melt your body into the kiss, your chest arching into his needily.

Breaking apart, he rests his forehead on yours, wetting his lips - an action that never fails to drive you mad.

“What’s gotten into you today?” he teases.

“With a bit of luck, hopefully you.”

His face drops in response to the vulgarity of your words, a mix of horror and disgust before his smirk breaks the mock repugnance, and you find yourself laughing along with him. He hums and taps you on the nose, pressing his growing lust against your thigh as he murmurs, “I think you’ve been spending too much time with me, love.”

“Well we could remedy that, darling.”

“And have you screaming some other bloke’s name into the night?” He pauses to lace your neck with lip bites, paving his way to your earlobe before continuing in a deep husk. “I think I’ll pass.”


	33. Jacob Frye/Reader (Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: children
> 
> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Canonical Timeline  
Domestic Fluff

Imagine - Jacob taking you and your children to the park, playing cricket with the kids and pretending to be grumpy when they beat him every time.

With the Blighter numbers dwindling and the Rooks presenting a friendly face on every street corner, you feel blessed with the Frye twins’ work to make London a safer place, the joy in your family’s face a veritable testament to the sanctuary the city has become.

You call everyone over for sandwiches and cake, and you’re not sure who runs over with more enthusiasm - your children or your goofball husband, Mr. Frye. He ducks in for a kiss to your cheek, before tucking in gleefully to the homemade snacks.

His work is never truly over, you know that much. But for now, you allow yourself to live, laugh and love with the ones you treasure the most in your glowing heart.


	34. Jacob Frye/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Explicit  
Ambiguous Timeline

Imagine - slow and sensual sex with Jacob Frye.

You’ll be riding him, rocking your hips with a back and forth sway, his hands rubbing your hips with his head tilted back, moaning softly. Just one look at the way he succumbs to your movements has your heart melting in your chest.

His skin is flushed pink, his full lips parted, his hazel eyes cloudy as they roam over your face, seeking the intimacy of eye contact. His dark hair lays splayed out across the pillow, and you just can’t help leaning forward, kissing him with a needy keen, and raking your fingers through the disheveled hair.

He looks thoroughly debauched, you smile inwardly, wondering if you look quite the same from his perspective. It’s a pleasant change of pace, taking time to enjoy the mellow stimulation and appreciate the intimacy that comes with a tantric coupling.


	35. Jacob Frye/Reader (Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Ambiguous Timeline  
Fluff

Imagine - waking up early in the morning to Jacob sleeping with his head lying on your chest.

He looks so cosy, bless him. Tuckered out from his strenuous lifestyle, all of that running, climbing and leaping certain to have him out cold the second he flops down onto the bed. His hand lies across your stomach, his shoulders visibly rising and falling with each soft breath.

You can’t help yourself; reaching your fingers out to comb through his hair, you pat his head in a way that leaves him smiling in his dreams, nuzzling your chest as he buries himself deeper in the calm and comfort only you can provide.

“I love you,” you whisper, before closing your eyes to join him for a few more hours of sleep.


	36. Jacob Frye/Reader (Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Canon Timeline  
Humour

Imagine - being a nurse working under Florence Nightingale.

There seems to have been a queer influx of patients in recent weeks; men of various ages showing up at the infirmary’s doors, nursing dislocated shoulders, sporting black eyes, split lips and a pained grimace you’ve grown all too used to, the look in their eyes reminiscent of primates who have had their alpha status usurped.

Yes, the number of patients coming in is odd, but what you find most peculiar is their injuries upon inspection - there’s barely a broken bone. Some terrible bruising along the ribs, joints popped out of their sockets, at best a hairline fracture if you do suspect a break. It seems their assailant was considerate, heedful of striking them in such a calculated way that suggests a proficiency in human anatomy.

Your speculation leads you to one conclusion - those damn fighting clubs have cropped back up. And with them, a new underground champion, one both ferocious and kind. _Could such a man exist?_, you find yourself pondering, when a fresh arrival of his surly victims trudge through the doors.

For the most part, all they require is some bed rest and laudanum to nullify the pain of their relocalisation, whereas others require you to lend an ear to them and their ramblings of this ‘bloody Frye bastard’. You don’t learn much from the patient’s rants; save for the fact he appeared in London only recently, a fresh-faced challenger who turned up out of the blue. You also learn that he’s a 'bloody sod’, quoth the patient, excusing yourself to snicker in private.

You have the pleasure of making his acquaintance one afternoon, though at the time you hadn’t a clue who he was. Bumping into him in the corridor, he steadies your shoulders with two gloved hands, apologising in a smooth, velvet voice before smiling and going on his way. You’re struck by his charm, shrugging him off as a visitor, and thinking nothing more of the debonair young man.

It’s only later when you overhear Miss. Nightingale addressing him, seeing him out with words of gratitude. Before you can stop yourself, you call out, “Mr. Frye!”

The figure turns in his step, his long coat swishing in his wake. You release the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, approaching him with a curious smile. This couldn’t be the same beast who injured all those men. Surely not. His clothes are pressed neatly, his hair slicked back under a top hat, his smile gracious and charming. His nimble fingers twirl a cane, his posture becoming of a gentleman.

Observing him closer, you eyeball a scar cutting through his right eyebrow, a matching white scratch secreted in dark facial hair. Moreover, his nose has a misshapen quality to it, and his physique, though buried under multiple layers of waistcoats and jackets, looks somewhat pugilistic and broad.

The injuries ascertain his identity, so you extend your hand and beam, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You’ve been keeping me quite busy, Sir.”

His eyes squint in perusal of your words, his tongue wetting his lips.

“Miss. …?”

You gesture for him to follow you down the hallway, leading him towards the ward where his victims lie.

“Miss. L/N, Mr. Frye. I’ve been patching up some familiar faces for you, no doubt.”

Ducking his head around the door to the ward, his face lights up upon seeing a cluster of his previous opponents, mostly unconscious and bandaged. One man fidgets in his bed, glaring daggers at the man behind you, who in turn waves gleefully in response.

“Oi, Frye! Next time I’ll 'ave you!”

Before he can open his mouth to retort, you adopt a sickly-sweet tone and croon, “And I shall see you to your usual bed straight after, Mr. Crowe.”

Mr. Frye barks with laughter, hunching over as he clutches his stomach with one hand, wiping tears away with his other. The patient scowls, grumbling profanities and raising his arm to give you both a middle finger, wincing thereafter from pulling his tender muscles, thus causing Mr. Frye’s laughter to continue having briefly settled down.

Guiding you out of the room, Mr. Frye smirks, “I like you,” winking your way before exiting the hospital, leaving you red-faced and positively besmitten in his wake.

_What a dreadful man_, you muse, hoping in the most private of your thoughts that this meeting will be the first of many.


	37. Jacob Frye/Reader (Mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Ambiguous Timeline  
Humour, Banter

Imagine - post-sex cuddles with Jacob Frye.

You lie with your head on his chest, the both of you catching your breath after a long night of pleasure. Bodies and bedsheets are slick with sweat, the latter tangled around the limbs of your lower half. You occupy yourself with the dark hairs on his pecs, smoothing your fingertip over the dusting of curls and tracing the scratch marks you'd bestowed upon him in the throes of passion.

You close your eyes with a satisfied hum.

It was... really something - not that his usual performance is anything to complain about, far from it; but it seems the weeks apart as adult life got in the way of you seeing each other really had an effect on you. You'd barely gotten out a "hello" before clothes were being flung off and thrown in every direction.

"God, I love you."

"Mmm." He kisses your crown, his arms tightening around you in a gentle hug. "You might have mentioned once or twice."

Cheeky git.

If you had the energy, you might have given him a playful slap to the chest. As it stands, you doubt you even have the energy to give him the middle finger, instead choosing to nuzzle deeper in the warmth of his chest, letting yourself drift off with a thoroughly satisfied sigh.


	38. Jacob Frye/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Modern Timeline  
Smut

Imagine - phone sex with Jacob Frye when he's away from home.

Jacob is away for a couple of weeks on business, and on the last phone call, he explained that he'd be wrapping things up over there pretty soon. It seems the thought of him finally coming home, of being in your arms, in your bed, being there in the flesh triggered some dreams of an erotic nature that night.

Between your unconscious porno and your partner's devilishly sensual voice, you can't help the words that follow, any inhibitions about sounding cheesy masked by the pure lust in your voice.

"I want you inside me, Jay. Your fingers, your tongue, your cock, I don't care what part. I just need you to make me come the way only you know how."

_"Mmh." _The vibration of his purr sends shivers down your spine. You press the speaker closer to your ear as he continues. _"Have I ever told you how sexy you sound when you beg?"_


	39. Jacob Frye/Reader (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Frye/Reader  
Modern Timeline  
Smut

Imagine - late night sex with Jacob Frye.

The man is relentless. He'd began between your thighs, fingering you with learned precision while his thumb stimulated your clit, his tongue teasing the sensitive parts of your inner thighs with wet strokes and kisses.

After you lose count of your orgasms that way, you're more than surprised when he reaches over to the nightstand, retrieves a condom and tears it open, sheathing his cock with the latex. His hands guide your shaky thighs into position, accomodating his hips between them before pushing forward, lowering his body flush against yours.

His pace begins slow and considerate, but the way he fills you, the way he brushes against the right spot, grinding his hips in just the right way to make sure he hits it again and again, you soon feel yourself becoming dizzy again. Your hips chase his, your body writhing under him, your juices that drench his cock causing him to groan into your shoulder, the delightful sounds of your love-making causing him to shiver.

Each orgasm comes as unexpected as the last; your back arches, your mouth poised to cry out with no sound escaping your lips, your thighs jerking and tightening around his hips with your nails clawing at his back. The only coherent thought you can assemble is that of needing him to come soon.

Closing your eyes, you press your forehead against his in hopes of communicating the message telepathically, clenching your walls around his cock in a silent plea. Unbeknownst to you, tonight is all about him making you come as much as possible, and he's got the stamina to keep going until he's satisfied that you're thoroughly exhausted and satiated.

A goofy smile spreads across your lips, a chorus of 'yes's filling the air as your hands smooth down his back to grab handfuls of his ass. Whatever number orgasm this is, it's different from the others - there's no silent cry, but a shriek that has you muffling your voice against his shoulder, your toes curling, a trickle of come escaping your sex that has you thankful for the towels laid out beneath you.

"Jay, Jay," you pat his chest in surrender. "I- I need a rest."

You're amazed if he understood a word of that; your breathing is uneven, your heart beating so loudly that you can hear it in your ears. Your body is radiant with the afterglow, your skin clammy and flushed, tingling with sensitivity. You look ready to call it a night, your head slumping to the side as you pant.

Jacob, on the other hand? Well, the night is young, and so is he. He slides happily beside you, brushing stray strands of hair from your damp forehead, admiring your image with a secret smile and a kiss to the tip of your nose. He's in no rush to continue the session. After all, you'll definitely need your energy for the next several hours to come.


	40. Ezio Auditore/Reader (Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezio Auditore/Reader  
Canon AU  
Teen, Fluff, Romance

Imagine - attending a St. Valentine's banquet in Renaissance Italy.

You're enjoying the feast, socialising with friends and indulging in fine food, when you feel the urge to look up from your table. Across the way is a young gentleman, one who needs no introduction, observing you with an interested look upon his face.

With that dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, dreamy brown eyes you could fondly get lost in for hours, and those oh-so kissable lips bisected by his signature scar, there's no mistaking the nobleman.

_Ezio Auditore da Firenze._

You feel that fluttery sensation of butterflies in your tummy, finding yourself blushing with a coy smile at having his attention. You've heard plenty of stories about him, possibly more than he could regale you with - dear Lord, should you ever have the pleasure.

He lifts his goblet slightly, gesturing a _Salute!_, before winking, his lips curving into a flirty smile. You return the smile, sincerely hoping he stays to dance later; oh, what you'd give to be swayed and twirled by such a man.


	41. Choose Your Assassin/Reader (Mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choose Your Assassin/Reader  
Ambiguous Timeline  
Not quite Smut, Lemon, Romance

Imagine - candlelit sex with your F/O.

The flame dances with the air, flitting side to side as the room is infused with a warm glow. You stand at the foot of the bed, your lover sat with their back resting against the headboard. Item by item, you strip the layers of your day's outfit, confidence surging through you from the look of desire in your partner's eyes.

Shimmying out of your underwear, you climb onto the bed and slide into their lap. Your hand meets theirs as it brushes your cheek for a lingering moment, before cupping your face and smiling sincerely, adoration evident in their gaze.

"Make love to me," you voice, lightly bumping the tip of your nose against theirs. Your lips are so close, you can feel their breath stalk your skin.

They close the gap, starting off with slow and tender kisses, gradually increasing the intensity and eliciting sweet moans from you that are muffled in the kiss. Gently, they change the position, laying you down on your back and checking that you're comfortable with plenty of pillows, before beginning their descent, making sure to stimulate every erogenous zone on their way down with a series of passionate kisses.


End file.
